


There's something about Harry

by DeadFoxy26



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dementor's Kiss, Gen, Horcruxes, Independent Harry Potter, Minor Character Death, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Puppets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-14 00:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12996219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadFoxy26/pseuds/DeadFoxy26
Summary: Avada Kedavra, Basilisk Venom and Fiendfyre. All guaranteed to destroy a horcrux. But what if there is one more way?Warning: kisses may prove fatal.





	There's something about Harry

**Author's Note:**

> A brief prologue for an idea I had. A lot of this is taken from the 5th book, so anything you find familiar in this first semi-chapter is not owned by me. I'm just looking forward to playing around with it a little bit.  
> Not sure if I'll expand it or not, but I do have some notes if I decide to add on later.

Something had happened to the night. The star-strewn indigo sky was suddenly pitch black and lightless – the stars, the moon, the misty streetlamps at either end of the alley had vanished. The distant rumble of cars and the whisper of trees had gone. The balmy evening was suddenly piercingly, bitingly cold. They were surrounded by total, impenetrable, silent darkness, as though some giant hand had dropped a thick, icy mantle over the entire alleyway, blinding them.

Harry turned his head this way and that, trying to see something, but the darkness pressed on his eyes like a weightless veil. He knew he hadn’t performed accidental magic; he didn’t have the power to turn off the stars. Dudley’s terrified cries echoed in his ears, shattering the silence. He ignored him with practiced ease.  
Harry stood stock still, turning his sightless eyes left and right. The cold was so intense he was shivering all over; goose bumps had erupted up his arms and the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up – he opened his eyes to the fullest extent, staring blankly around, unseeing.

It was impossible … they couldn’t be here … not in Little Whinging … he strained his ears … he would hear them before he saw them …

Dudley’s whimpering grew more frantic and Harry hissed at him to shut up. But he fell silent. He had heard just the thing he had been dreading.  
There was something in the alleyway apart from themselves, something that was drawing long, hoarse, rattling breaths. Harry felt a horrible jolt of dread as he stood trembling in the freezing air. He once again ignored Dudley’s stuttering threats, to his detriment.

A heavy fist made contact with the side of Harry’s head, lifting him off his feet. Small white lights popped in front of his eyes. He landed hard on the ground and his wand flew out of his hand. Yelling out in anger, his eyes watered with pain as he scrambled to his hands and knees, feeling around frantically in the blackness. An eerie shriek split the air and he could hear Dudley blundering away, hitting the alley fence and stumbling. He was heading straight towards it.  
There was a horrible squealing yell and Dudley’s footsteps stopped. At the same moment, Harry felt a creeping chill behind him that could only mean one thing. There was more than one. Frantic now, he shouted for Dudley to keep his mouth shut at all costs, hands flying like spiders over the ground in search of his wand.

In his desperation, he said the spell for light to help in his search – and to his disbelieving relief, brightness flared inches from his right hand – the wand tip had ignited. Harry snatched it up, scrambled to his feet and spun around.  
His stomach turned over.  
A towering, hooded figure was gliding smoothly towards him, hovering over the ground, no feet or face visible beneath its robes, sucking on the night as it came.

Stumbling backwards, Harry raised his wand to perform the only spell that would give him and his cousin a chance.  
A silvery wisp of vapour shot from the tip of the wand and the Dementor slowed, but the spell hadn’t worked properly; tripping over his own feet, panic fogging his brain, Harry retreated further as the Dementor bore down on him.  
A pair of grey, slimy, scabbed hands slid from inside the Dementor’s robes, reaching for him. A rushing noise filled Harry’s ears.  
He tried the spell again but his voice sounded dim and distant. Another wisp of silver smoke, feebler than the last, drifted from the wand – he couldn’t do it any more, he couldn’t work the spell.

There was laughter inside his own head, shrill, high-pitched laughter … he could smell the Dementor’s putrid, death-cold breath filling his own lungs, drowning him. He needed a happy thought.  
But there was no happiness in him … the Dementor’s icy fingers were closing on his throat – the high-pitched laughter was growing louder and louder, and a voice spoke inside his head: ‘Bow to death, Harry … it might even be painless … I would not know … I have never died …’

He was going die. 

Just like his parents. 

Just like Cedric. 

Sightless eyes filled his mind as he fought for breath. 

Barely a dozen steps away, Dudley was curled up on the ground, his arms clamped over his face. The first Dementor was crouching low over him, gripping his wrists in its slimy hands, prising them slowly, almost lovingly apart, lowering its hooded head towards Dudley’s face as though about to kiss him.  
Harry saw none of that. A paralysing terror had filled him so that he couldn’t move or speak. The Dementor that had wrapped a freezing hand around his neck had lowered its own hood. Where there should have been eyes, there was only thin, grey, scabbed skin, stretched blankly over empty sockets. But there was a mouth … a gaping, shapeless hole, sucking the air with the sound of a death-rattle.

The hands gentled, cupping his face … it was being forced upwards … he could feel the Dementor’s putrid breath … it was going to get rid of him first … there was a screaming in his ears … it was going to be the last thing he ever heard.

The pain was excruciating. He tried to keep his mouth shut but he could feel the pressure building up behind his teeth. Against his will, his lips parted and he surrendered to the creature feeding on his very life-force. What happened next was entirely unprecedented. 

There was a long, drawn-out scream. A blood-like substance, dark and tarry, dripped down his face as his forehead felt like it was being split open with a hot knife. Harry’s eyes rolled up into his head. His head was on fire but he was drowning in a cold that went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, inside his very heart. He was being dragged downwards…  
The icy hands that had gripped his face lowered to wrap around his torso. Deathly pale, too weak to move, sick and shaking, Harry forced his eyes to open. The screaming had stopped and he was becoming numb to the cold. The Dementor was rising into the air, Harry clasped tightly within its strong grip.

Fighting to remain conscious, Harry didn’t understand. He couldn’t think any more. He felt the last of his strength leave him, and his head hit the creature’s chest as he finally passed out.

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler Alert!
> 
> Sorry about Dudley. I do like him and his potential for redemption, but it would just not have worked in this story. I'll make it up to him in the next one, I promise.


End file.
